Serenade
by dormiensa
Summary: A chance encounter has Blaise reassessing his determination to remain single. Written for the LJ rarepair comm's Summer Wishlist 2014 fest.


When he heard the raised voices, Blaise rolled his eyes. His mum and Stepfather Number Eight kept insisting that arguments were the spice of marriage. They could have it. He'd stick to plain and simple singlehood with a side of one-nighters, thanks very much. What with his mum's multiple marriages over the years—never mind the men she flirted with or casually bedded on the side—and the trauma of his last two years at Hogwarts, he'd had enough drama to last him a lifetime. Possibly two.

The sudden crash and scream of pain, however, made Blaise sigh and drag himself out of the cozy chair where he'd been reading. Sure enough, when he reached the foyer, he saw Eight a groaning heap on the floor.

"C'mon, Miguel, let's get you to Mungo's. Have that arm checked out. Can you walk?"

Discovering that the man had twisted his ankle as well—if not broken it—Blaise shook his head and cast a Levitation. As they headed toward the fireplace, Blaise thought sourly that Eight had probably survived as long in this marriage (_ten years—a record for Mum_) because of Blaise's own timely interventions. Seven had been a doddering old pervert looking for a last bit of fun before croaking at a venerable 150 years. Five and Six had come and gone while he was at Hogwarts. And the previous ones had suffered their ignoble ends because Blaise had been too young to know how to help them. He'd been very fond of Three, and he was devastated at being told that the man had died from injuries sustained from trampling by Thestrals. He wondered if Three ever saw them coming.

Manoeuvering in and out of the fireplace proved tricky, but he managed. Stepping out of the fireplace at Mungo's, though…

The wait room was a carnival of weird ailments and cacophony. They weaved their way to the front desk. The bored receptionist jotted down a few words, gave him a slip of parchment with the number 39 on it, and told them to find a seat; a Healer would call them. When asked if a pain-relieving potion could be first administered to make the wait more comfortable, the witch looked annoyed, but in the face of his raised eyebrow, she quelled and taught him the spell that would temporarily numb the injured areas. Blaise thanked her in his mum's Most Condescending and found what seemed the most comfortable pair of chairs in the wait room.

_This spell will be very handy for Eight during future incidences. If Draco and the team prove less disorganized next game, I may share this useful tool. Merlin knows any tactical advantage is needed. But Draco is as pig-headed as a Weasley sometimes. Must be his wife's Gryffindork rubbing off.__  
><em>

Blaise did not hear the Healer when she first called out their number. Then, over the din, he heard the witch at reception screech, "Oh, Circe's fat arse, you've _got_ to learn to raise your voice! **NUMBER 39!**"

Blaise Levitated Eight and followed the lime-green robes into a curtained-off cubicle. The Healer motioned for Eight to be placed on the bed and Blaise to be seated in the corner. Bereft of his responsibility, Blaise watched the Healer's quick, efficient movements as she examined Eight. He idly wondered where he'd seen that neat plait of red hair. Certainly not at any of the parties he'd attended; she didn't seem the type to enjoy raucous crowds or drunken dancing. But then, perhaps he was being biased. She certainly didn't seem fazed by the chaos of the wait room.

Eight sat up, relief on his face. The Healer turned to Blaise, and he was once again struck by the familiarity of her features and her smile. She informed him that Eight's injuries would be completely healed by the following morning; Blaise just needed to make sure he drank a second dose of potion before bedtime. If there was still any residual pain or swelling after twenty-four hours, though—or new symptoms—they were to return to Mungo's for further examination and treatment. Blaise nodded and assisted Eight toward the corridor and Floo.

* * *

><p>"That's a very handy spell, Blaise! Thank you! I'm sure the girls will be very pleased to know it. Husbands and children are so accident-prone. Especially husbands who insist that playing rough is the only way to have a proper Quidditch game."<p>

Blaise rolled his eyes and gave Draco a look. Well, at least the git looked sheepish. Really, this universal sharing and greater good nonsense was getting out of hand. He was just about to demand Hermione desist from mentioning that he was the source of such "kindness" when she interrupted. "So, Miguel was treated by Susan? He was very lucky. Susan wasn't scheduled to work that night. One of the other Healers had a family emergency, and she was covering. She's the best Healer Mungo's got."

"How—?"

"Oh, Draco told me what happened. And I knew right away from the description of her mannerism and quiet efficiency that it had to be Susan. I've told her countless times that she should just cast a Silencing Charm whenever she calls for patients, but she's too scrupulous about causing further emotional aggravation to them. I can see her point, but really, the added hassle of not being heard!"

"Perhaps you should point out that the delay caused by her inability to get her patient's attention could further exacerbate the condition."

"Good point! Yes, I'll tell her that. Thank you, Blaise!"

"Don't mention it. In fact, I don't think you need mention that I was the one who taught you that numbing spell. Just say you learned it from a Mungo's staff, which is true enough."

"Oh, Blaise, always this reluctance to appear kind. If Draco—"

"Abhorrent as divorce is for Malfoys, perhaps it will prove the best recourse. You should've married someone in Hufflepuff who has all these noble qualities you constantly find lacking in me."

Hermione giggled and pecked Draco on the cheek. "But I'd miss the verbal sparring, something Malfoys excel at." Her arms encircled his neck.

"Ugh, you two need to realize that the honeymoon phase ended five years ago. Or should have. I'll leave you to your nauseating affections. Thank you for dinner, Hermione. Good night."

* * *

><p>Blaise stared down dumbly at his mum's unconscious form. Beside him, Eight was a blathering of incoherent noises. He was quite used to losing stepfathers, but had his mother's luck finally—NO! He couldn't bear to even finish the thought. Inconceivable!<p>

"Shut it, Miguel! Go pour yourself a Firewhiskey and wait in the library. I'm bringing Mum to Mungo's. We'll be back." Blaise gingerly lifted his mother and rushed toward the fireplace.

* * *

><p>"I want to see Healer Susan. Now!"<p>

The reception witch, an older one, looked at him sardonically. "Name and cause of injury?"

"My mum is unconscious from an unknown jinx she cast that ricocheted off some ornament and hit her. Eight—My stepfather doesn't know what the spell is. They were arguing. When can we see Healer Susan?"

"Healer _Bones_ is currently with a patient. And while your mother is still unconscious, it doesn't appear that she's in any danger of imminent death. So, take this number and wait your turn."

"I insist that we see Healer Bones."

"I'll see what I can do. No promises. Now, take a seat. There's a line of people behind you."

Blaise sat down with his mum cradled against him. But after five or ten minutes, he found he couldn't sit still. He cast a small Load-Lightening Charm and paced the wait room.

When their number was finally called, but not by the desired Healer, Blaise snarled that if they didn't get Healer Bones and _soon_, he was Floo-calling _Auror Potter_ to see if the situation could be rectified. He felt a moment's satisfaction when the Healer—a sprog fresh from training, too—scurried away. He normally hated even admitting that he was on decently friendly terms with Harry Can-Do-No-Wrong Potter, but in times like these… He ignored the reception witch.

Another age later, Healer Bones approached him and asked that he follow her to the examination area. There was something about her calm manner that stifled his panicking as he carried his mum down the corridor. Again, Healer Bones was a mass of reassuring competency as she examined her patient. Blaise heaved a sigh of relief when his mum finally opened her eyes.

"Welcome back to the realm of consciousness, Mrs. Fernandez. That was quite a nasty jinx you suffered. I hope we'll be more careful in future when choosing spells in a fit of anger? You can return home now, but it'll take a few hours for the after-effects to completely disappear. I would recommend some bedrest and a few days' quiet repose. Anything that can cause emotional stress—including husbands—should be removed from the vicinity until she feels her normal self again." That last statement was directed at Blaise with a grin and a wink.

Blaise would curse himself after they arrived home for being so overwhelmed by his mum's recovery that he'd had no witty comeback.

* * *

><p>Blaise stared uncomprehendingly at the missive the post owl had just delivered. What flowers? What note?<p>

When enlightenment dawned, he stalked into the conservatory. "Mother! What do you think you're doing? I am your _son_, not one of your playthings! I'll thank you to not meddle!"

His mum looked coolly at him. "I'll thank you not to raise your voice around my prized orchids. Whatever has got you into a snit, take it elsewhere."

"Don't think you can fob me off, Mother. I know you sent those flowers 'on my behalf' to the Healer. I have no problem finding dates; I don't need your help."

"Always so obstinate. Just like your father." She cupped his cheeks between her hands. "I can see that you don't lack bedmates, my smooth-tongued _moratiwa_, but you can't go through life without at least one reliable companion."

"You've had enough 'companions' for both of us."

"Oh, _bokkie_, you've being poisoned against me. I didn't intend harm to _any_ of my husbands. If I could have kept your papa alive, or any of your stepfathers, I would've been happy with one husband for the rest of my life."

"That's not what I meant. I just don't need the drama."

"You're simply too afraid to give of yourself. You've talked yourself into believing that relationships are nothing but pain. You just need the right woman to show you how worthwhile it all is. I like Healer Bones. She's sweet and clever and no-nonsense. If you don't want 'drama', then you'll find none with her."

"_Mum!_ I don't want you playing matchmaker. I'm happy with how things are. And if I eventually feel like settling down, I'll let you know. I still get final say on who she will be. _And_ you're going to have to accept my choice."

"Of course, love. You know I've always had your best interests at heart."

"If that were true, I'd've made fewer trips to Mungo's."

"There's no pleasure in having a 'nice' marriage, Blaise. Utterly plebian."

"As you say, Mum. I'm meeting the boys for lunch. I'll owl if I'm not coming home for dinner."

He kissed his mum on the cheek and Disapparated.

* * *

><p>"Oh, hello, Mr. Zabini. How is your mum doing? Fully recovered, I hope."<p>

Blaise turned his head sharply and saw Healer Bones smiling down at him. _I've been had!_ Schooling his features into a polite smile, he pulled down the seat beside him. "How are you, Healer Bones? Mother's doing very well; thank you for your concern."

"Oh, please call me Susan. It diminishes my instinct to check your pulse." She grinned.

Blaise's smile widened. "In that case, Susan, call me Blaise. And now I no longer have the urge to admit that I have not eaten a healthy breakfast. Though I've only had one cup of coffee."

"Do you at least eat some fruits and vegetables regularly? And you're sure you haven't experienced any fatigue or pain or any other signs that you may not be in the best of health? I don't think I want to have to don my Healer hat in the middle of a concert."

"Oh, fret not. I'm in tip-top shape. I can get several people to testify to that."

"If by 'people' you mean those you party with, I hardly think they are reliable witnesses. I very much doubt that sobriety is the rule."

"You wound me! Partying isn't all I do! See, I'm attending this concert."

"Ah, then you do admit that you are the partying sort."

"I enjoy the company of like-minded people. Like now."

"Aren't you a smooth one?"

"Just speaking truth."

"Truth from a Slytherin…"

"Is even more valuable because they rarely speak it, so when they do…"

Susan blushed. "Well, then, likewise. Have you always been interested in string quartets?"

"I played the violin for years before starting Hogwarts. It is still a great source of comfort. And yourself?"

"I took viola lessons for a few years, but like you, Hogwarts left me with little time to practise. And Healer duties being what they are, I'm afraid I haven't gotten back to it."

"An unusual choice. What made you decide on the viola?"

"Because it is atypical. The fact that while it doesn't stand out like the violin or even the cello, it is still crucial for harmonizing and completion of the work as a whole appealed to me. And while there aren't many pieces for it, the ones that do exist are lovely."

"Admirable! As to why I chose the 'flashier' violin, it was a choice between that and singing. My mum plays the piano, and she was determined that we would perform duets. I was more drawn to the sound of the violin's voice than my own."

"Your mum must've seen some potential in your singing abilities if those were your only two choices."

"Well, I'm not tone-deaf. I have a passable voice, I'm told. But the violin can sing in a way I never could."

"I can understand that. There's just something about stringed instruments that provoke emotions like no other."

"Indeed."

They were compelled to pause the conversation and direct their attention to the musicians who had finally appeared on stage. During the next two hours, Blaise found himself equally enthralled by the music and Susan's reactions to it. For the first time, he felt there must be such liberation to have no emotional reserves, to let every thought and feeling show plainly on one's face, without a care for another's judgment and censure.

When the concert ended, Susan was one of the first on her feet applauding. Blaise found himself joining in her enthusiasm.

After the group had taken their final curtain call, Blaise realized that, despite knowing this was a set-up by an interfering mother, he was willing to play along. "Would you care to join me in a late luncheon? Or perhaps tea?"

"I'd love to. Lunch would be lovely. Music, even simply listening to it, always makes me hungry."

"I know the perfect place just around the corner. They make the best quiche I've ever had."

"Lead on, then!"

* * *

><p>Before stepping foot into the conservatory, Blaise took a deep, steadying breath. The ordeal of Hermione's interrogation was still fresh in his memory. He'd always thought his mum's inquisitions excruciating trials of endurance, but she wasn't a Gryffindor. He squared his shoulders.<p>

"Hello, Mum. Miss me?" He pecked her cheek.

"Always, my darling. But you need not fear: I'm not about to waste away because my only son gives no thought to his poor mother as he samples the pleasures of life."

"And yet, when we're in the same house together, I barely exchange more than a dozen words with you because you're always engaged in one activity or another."

"One mustn't waste the day."

"And how have you spent the last three days I've been away?"

"Yesterday being Tuesday, the ladies had the usual tea. Narcissa is all excitement at the news of a second grandchild—you must know that already from Draco. Of course, I couldn't neglect my normal exercise regimens. Scheherazade was very well-behaved and jumped beautifully. I made sure Henry awarded her with extra apples. What else? Ambrosine is planning yet another of her tiring charity balls. Do try not to miss this one, _moratiwa_. She remarked on your absence several times at her last one."

"Yes, Mummy dear." Blaise waited for the onslaught but was disappointed. His mum went back to tending her orchids.

After an awkward silence, his mum looked up in surprise. "Was there something you needed, darling?"

"Aren't you going to ask how the concert was?"

"Oh yes. Did you enjoy yourself, _bokkie_?"

"The group was excellent. The first violinist _could_ take some lessons in posture and presentation, but her technique was exquisite. Decent musicality, which is more than I can say for a majority of the so-called professionals out there, and the potential to improve with age and experience. I think she may find her _métier_ if she played more Schubert and less Haydn. The other three were up to snuff. The violist anchored the pieces with subtlety and finesse."

"Oh? I don't think you've ever noticed the violist before. He or she must have been quite exceptional."

"She. It's an all-female quartet. You'd know that if you _truly_ were intending to see them. But we both know it was a lie from the beginning."

"Oh, darling, I'm forever getting free tickets to see some concert or another. But Miguel finally managed to book _Le Cochon Gros_, so I had to forgo the music. I'm sure I would have enjoyed it, though not as much as you, of course."

"I did. As did Susan. We compared notes over lunch afterwards, so we know that you and Hermione set up the blind date."

"You children and your fanciful ideas. It was mere coincidence. You'd insisted that I not meddle, if you recall."

Blaise huffed in annoyance. Even now, his mum would not admit to scheming. And why this nonchalance?

"Hermione is already excited for our next date. I don't even know if this one counts as a first one, seeing as we were both manipulated into it."

"Don't forget to inform Coco if you're not going to be home for dinner, i_bokkie/i_. You know she always makes too much food."

"After three days of not being able to taste her excellent cooking, I'm not in any hurry to eat out."

"In that case, why don't you decide on tonight's dinner menu with her? I'm sure she'd be thrilled."

"I'll go to the kitchens right now."

"All right. Oh, be a dear and ask her to send up the Chinese tea from Hortense instead of the usual."

"Of course."

Blaise headed out of the conservatory. Really, mothers were inexplicable creatures!

* * *

><p>After getting Coco into a tizzy over leg of lamb, Blaise sent an owl to Susan with the following missive:<p>

_Good day, Susan,_

_I hope this owl finds you well. _

_I very much enjoyed your insights in music theory at our last meeting and hope to continue our discussion sometime soon._

_The Goblin Symphony Orchestra is performing a lovely selection of Kovacs' works on Saturday at 8:00 p.m. Would you be available? Perhaps we could have an early dinner prior? _

_Blaise__  
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**Author's Notes:** Many thanks to UnseenLibrarian for being a fabulous beta, as always!


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